by Sister Maris Stella
I am afraid of silence. I am afraid
Of my own soul. I am afraid of hearing
A voice – one voice above all voices – made
Clear in the silence. I shall grow old fearing
This silence that goes with me wherever I go.
I cannot keep it in or bar it out.
Always within, around, above, below,
It beats upon me. I am hedged about
Most utterly. Surrounded. Yet I raise
Even now a futile barrier of sound
Against the voice in silence I dispraise,
Against the voice I dread that hems me round;
To which, did I but listen, I should be
Afraid of nothing. Nothing could frighten me.
